It's the Thought that Counts
by superimpossedmadness
Summary: It wasn't like it was anything special, Donna just thought it might be a nice to give him something. Slight Superboy/Wonder Girl, Conner/Donna and an teeny bit of SuperMartian if you really squint.


**A/N: Okay, okay, before you get your blowtorches ready, I just wanted to say that…I really couldn't help it, alright! X( I know WG should be Cassie but they used Wally and Dick, so I thought, **_**Why not**_**? **

**This is just a silly one-shot but I'll take any constructive criticism you might have, anything to help me improve. Oh, and before I forget, Happy Holidays, guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Young Justice, they belong to DC and whathaveyou.**

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><p><em>Damn it all to Tartarus<em>, Donna fumed, an ugly scowl contorting her lips into a disfigured line.

The Amazonian sat cross-legged on the fuzzy carpet of M'gann's room, brows furrowed in concentration. Her back ached from stooping over so for so long, and her fingers stung from where the two needles would sometimes pinch whenever her fingers would stumble, but she was determined to finish what she had started.

"That's it, Donna," M'gann cheered helpfully, "You're finally getting the hang of it."

The Martian hovered over her friend, peering down at the scrambled heap of cloth laying limply in the Amazonian's clenched grip. She almost winced when the older girl violently jabbed the sewing needle through a loop of the sturdy yarn.

The process would repeat for several minutes, complete with intervals of low toned cusses in both Greek and English. Finally, with a proclamation of something that sounded like 'son of a witch', Donna hurled the disfigured lump across the room, seething, "Confound it to all Hades!"

M'gann lowered herself to the ground, encasing the trembling girl in the cage of her arms because Donna looked ready to explode at any given moment.

"Hey, nobody gets it right the first time," she soothed patting down Danna's matted hair, "If you want, I've got more yarn in my drawer, we could start again and I could-"

But Donna cut her off, "What's the point?" she sulked, resting her head on the juncture of M'gann's shoulder and neck, "I've only succeeded in wounding my fingers and my pride."

"He'll like it either way," M'gann assured her friend's dampened spirits, though there was something in her voice, like an unspoken bitterness that tainted her usually sweet trill, "He likes everything you do."

The Amazonian peered up at her, brows crinkled in confusion and uncertainty, "Oh?"

By that time, M'gann had managed to wipe off any of the uneasy emotion and replaced it with her usual zealous self. "Of course, silly!" Though her smile still looked pained and forced, there was still a glint of confidence and certainty in her honest eyes.

Donna's lips shifted to a hesitant grin, eyes crinkled as she looped one arm around her friend's waist, "Thanks, M'gann."

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><p>A shift of paper crinkling was heard then a soft smack, disturbing the unmoving Kryptonian from his unwavering stare at the blank T.V., "There, that's for you."<p>

Conner peered at the figure hovering above him, turning his head away from the static he was so diligently watching. A brow arched and he lowered his head until his eyes rested on a neatly wrapped parcel; elegantly looped with a bow.

"What's this?"

Donna looked exasperated, rolling her eyes heavenward, "It's a gift, obviously."

Conner resisted a sneer, barely coughing down his growl that rested uneasily in his throat, "I know that," he hissed, "What I meant was, what _is _it?"

"Open it," she retorted testily, crossing her arms over her chest.

Again, biting back a growl, he turned his attention to the modest brown parcel, hooking his fingers on the loops of the bow and he gave them a gentle tug, unraveling the silken strip. Then he began tearing the paper apart, careful not to make an awful mess and what greeted him inside -amidst all the wrapping paper and colored tissue- laid a neatly folded black sweater.

His brow was now parallel to his hairline, a look of incredulous wonderment flashing on his face before it melted into stoic indifference.

"Well?" Donna prodded, hands now balanced on either hip.

Though she may have looked irritated, a look of nervous anticipation danced in her blue eyes.

"It's...small." He replied unsurely, turning the too small sweater around; running his fingers over the rough material of the embroidered Kryptonian insignia.

Donna deflated, slowly descending as she tried her very hardest to mask her hurt. "Ah."

"But thank you." He quirked his lips so that it formed a semblance of a smile that you had to squint your eyes and turn your head to the side to truly see it.

She managed to perk up at that, though it may not have shown. "No problem, Connor Kent, happy holidays," and she flashed him one of those dimpled grins, causing his chest to pulse uncomfortably fast.

"Though, Donna..."

"Hm?"

"One sleeve's too long."

_Smack_


End file.
